


My Brother's Keeper

by XxWanderlustxX



Series: Saving Adam [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adam - Freeform, Gen, Pre series
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-06-12
Updated: 2013-06-12
Packaged: 2017-12-14 18:36:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/840058
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxWanderlustxX/pseuds/XxWanderlustxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean had angels, Sam had demons, but what if Adam wasn't a perfectly normal apple-pie life kind of boy, either? Adam-centric. OCs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In the Darkness Waits

**Author's Note:**

> Reposted from my FF account, you can see more of my work there... and actual author's notes which are really just my own inane ramblings... er, so, enjoy...

**Chapter One: In the Darkness Waits**

It starts when Adam is three –  _although to tell the truth it starts long before that, before him, and it has been the same with many others through the years and months and days_  – but for Adam it begins that night, almost a day after his third birthday, when mom has turned off the light, and Adam is laying down on his bed in the child's bedroom that used to belong to his uncle –  _Uncle Declan, he was a marine, and they sent him off overseas to fight the terrorists, but he's not coming back anymore, they said_  – in his grandparent's house in Minnesota.

Adam can't sleep so he gazes at his nightlight and imagines that the shadows make shapes like the animals on his picture books.

He shouldn't be awake, but he is, and that's why he hears it when the twigs scratch at the window even though they shouldn't be near enough to do that, why he jumps when he hears the click of the lock unlatching, why he looks up when the hinges squeal  _softly, oh so softly_  as the window eases open and the night breeze gusts into the room sending the curtains billowing and the chill night air stinging Adam's face and the back of his little hands because they're not under the covers.

And Adam is three, and he's terrified and he's curious and he pulls back his little hands and hides them under the blankets when he pulls it up to his nose, until he's all hidden and covered but for his wide blue eyes, staring out at the open window that shouldn't be open at all because mommy locked it before she kissed him goodnight.

The three year old waits a beat, and another, and  _listens, listens, listens_ , and he can  _hear_ it. There's something on the ledge, something shuffling and dark and it's  _climbing, climbing_ up into his window…

Then there's a hiss, and a muffled thud, a cuss word that Adam can't repeat because mommy will be mad at him, and the shuffling is gone.

There's a dark shape outside Adam's window, and pale, so pale hands, long and thin are on the sill and the window is being pulled closed, and Adam hears the click of a latch that nobody should be able to open and close from outside, but they already have.

And Adam is  _scaredsoscared_ because the dark thing is still there, standing outside his window but he can't scream, can't call for mommy, because he's afraid that  _it_ will hear him first.

It stands there for an eternity and a half, stands until his eyelids droop and he stifles a yawn and before he knows it, he's fast asleep, but the dark figure still stands outside his window, unmoving, waiting maybe, but Adam is long gone and past caring.

There's a sigh and a chuckle, and a breeze ruffles Adam's hair even though all the windows are closed.

In his bed, Adam sleeps. And his dreams are filled with pale fingers and shadowy black figures with blank black eyes standing in the distance.


	2. The Porcelain Girl

**Chapter Two: The Porcelain Girl**

Adam is panicking, he knows. He's never been this terrified before.

But then again, he's only seven, and he's probably never been in a situation as scary as this.

Frantically, he looks around, stifling sobs because –  _mommy, where was mommy?_  – there were so many, many people and it was such a big, big place for a seven year old boy. The blonde sniffles, tugging at the edge of his dark green jumper fearfully. The department store was huge, so many people and so many places, and where was his mommy?

"Hey, looka' this. Ya lost kid?" laughs an unpleasant voice, and Adam looks up, startled. Eyeing the group of older boys approaching him warily. They're all bigger and taller than Adam, and he is, quite frankly, terrified. He nods nervously, mouth clamping shut, and the group bursts into laughter.

Adam doesn't like them, they look scary and unpleasant, they're laughing at him, and Adam just wants his mom to find him and make everything better. Because Adam knows they're bullies and he's never had to deal with bullies at school, because he's average and likeable and never the one to stand out of a crowd and draw attention, but now he does and Adam is small and scrawny and lost in a world where grown-ups and older kids roam and Adam is the odd one out.

He's too easy a picking.

Adam edges back, but there are already two of them behind him and they shove Adam forward, into the circle, and they're in an alcove near the restrooms and nobody notices them. Adam knows he's in a bad situation, and he wants to run, to get away, he wishes that he didn't go to the store with Kate in the first place, but right now, there's no way out.

"Ooh, is the little baby  _scared_?" taunts the first one, the leader, and the others echo him and laugh. It stings Adam like a slap to the face, because he  _is_ scared. But it's not fair, they can't use that against him because they don't even know him, and he doesn't deserve to get bullied because he's never done anything wrong to them.

The circle gets smaller and someone shoves Adam, but Adam isn't terrified anymore, he's angry and he wants to cry and he  _doesn't deserve this_ , so he shoves back and glares, even though they're bigger and taller than him. It doesn't matter, because they can't do that.

"Go find someone else to bother!" he yells, and it comes out squeaky and not quite as effective as Adam wants it to be.

At first they're surprised, and then they're angry. Adam knows he's in trouble when the two behind him grab his arms and the leader pulls an arm back to strike.

Adam flinches – but the blow never comes.

* * *

She's a small thing, Adam thinks, when he opens his eyes, smaller than him and the dress she's wearing is mauve and frilly and looks like a prop from a costume store. She looks completely out of place, but that's not the oddest thing.

She's holding back the bully's hand.

Adam is safe, for the moment. Then she lets go, and the bully steps back, surprised, before he turns on her and the circle is now around Adam and the little girl.

"Jus' who the hell are  _you_?" growls the leader "Ya think ya can just barge in, stupid kid… Jus' cause you're a girl, don't think I'll hold back!"

"But I  _definitely_  will." says the girl cockily, her voice is lilting and rich, accent like the British people Adam sees in the soap operas his mom watches sometimes. "Prob'ly not even enough for a warm-up, you lot"

She's tiny and delicate-looking, like the creepy porcelain dolls Adam sees in the ghost movies that sometimes come up on cable, with black hair held back by a bright blue ribbon and blank black eyes  _– they're dark, so dark that he can't tell her pupils from her irises_  – too big for her face. Adam thinks she looks  _wrong_.

The girl twirls around a black umbrella, all lace and ribbons and just her size, before she flashes them a brilliant grin. It doesn't reach her eyes.

Adam shudders.

The group of bullies hesitates for a minute, before the leader charges in with a roar, fists swinging. And it happens so fast that Adam knows that if he had blinked then he would have missed it. The girl ducks under flailing fists –  _she's far more graceful than any little girl has any right to be and Adam thinks she's wrong, so wrong, unnatural_  – and the umbrella comes swinging, it hits the back of the bully's legs and sends him toppling, dazed, to the ground.

The others watch her, wide-eyed then wary, but they charge too, 'she's just a girl' they think.

But she's not just a girl, Adam thinks, because she dances past the three that charge her and the umbrella is swinging and slashing, and then there are four groaning on the ground.

The two holding Adam's arms share a look, and the girl raises an eyebrow at them, unimpressed, before stepping forward, one hand on the umbrella.

They run. All of them, because the little girl is crazy and impossible. And the umbrella is unexpectedly painful for something that ought to be blunt and padded.

But Adam is too slow, so it's just him and the girl standing. And Adam is nervous, because the little girl is  _wrongwrongwrong_  and he's scared.

"You're Adam." says the girl, head cocking to the side. It's a statement, not a question, and Adam bites his lip.

"Yeah, that's me, how'd you know?" asks the blonde.

"I make it a point to know." replies the girl. And she laughs and shakes her head, silky black curls flying. "Maybe next time then."

Adam doesn't know when next time is, or why there's a next time. He doesn't know who the scary girl with the blank black eyes and porcelain skin is or how she knows his name. Adam wants to ask but the girl turns around and she's leaving and Adam's half-worried that she'll hit him with her umbrella if he follows her, so he stares after her as she picks her way through the crowd…

…and walks up to a red-haired man in a white doctor's coat.

Adam wonders if that's her dad and watches enviously. He doesn't know his dad. He doesn't think he has one.

Then the red-haired man looks up at Adam and Adam's breath catches in his throat because the man's gaze is cold and ice-blue and piercing, and Adam feels like the man is looking into his very soul.

And then the man smiles, and it's a small thing, barely a turn of the lips, but its  _warmth_ and  _love_  and the eyes aren't piercing but friendly and vast like the summer sky. Adam feels safe. Because the man is  _good,_ he can feel it, just like he can feel that the porcelain girl is  _darkscaryterrible_.

"Adam!" and then Kate is there and Adam is startled and happy and crying and thinking  _MomMomMom!_  And he's gonna be safe and go home, and it's  _safelovegoodsafe_. Kate is hugging him and laughing and crying and scolding him that he should never, ever do anything like that again because she was so, so worried, and she'd never be able to bear it if anything happened to her little angel.

When Adam looks back, the red-haired man and the porcelain girl are gone.

* * *

That night, Adam dreams that he's on his bed, and the bullies are crawling, shuffling on the ledge outside his window that shouldn't be open but is, and the porcelain girl stands there, just outside his window, staring at him with blank black eyes, before she hits the bullies with her umbrella and they topple out of sight, and the red-haired man in the doctor's coat sits at the edge of his bed and tucks him in, giving him a goodnight kiss on the forehead, just like his mom does.

When Adam wakes up, he doesn't remember his dream, but he tells his mom about the red-haired man and the porcelain girl.

Adam doesn't know it, but years later, when he thinks back on that day, he'll remember the expression on his mother's face:

Terror.


	3. Perfect Strangers

Janet is late.

Adam is nine and he's sitting on one of the swings in the playground. It's March of 1999, and the leaves are bright and green on the trees, flowers blooming in their little pots sitting by the sidewalk. The children had made a game of leaping over the pots, like an obstacle course, and Adam had been right there with them, leaping and running. But that was an hour ago, and the children have all been picked up by their parents. The school is all empty now.

All except Adam, and even though it's fun to finally get on the swing as many times as he likes, or slide as much as he wants, it's boring now and Adam just wants to get home.

But Janet is late. She shouldn't be, because mom is paying her to pick Adam up after school and watch over him at the house while Kate is working the afternoon shift at the hospital. She shouldn't be late, because Adam is bored, and kind of hungry and mom will be mad at him if he walks home on his own because that's what happened the last time he went back without Janet.

The nine year old frowns as he plays with the ends of his green and yellow scarf, wondering where Janet has gone. It's not like her to be this late. Maybe she forgot? Adam nibbles on his lip nervously; Janet always liked those afternoon soap operas, what if she saw one and forgot she was supposed to pick Adam up? Mom always said Adam forgot things when the TV was on, maybe Janet was like that too? What if Adam had to wait for her until night time? The blonde glances at the empty school anxiously. Trixie Pacard said there were monsters in the school that came out at night, said that if you stayed in the classroom after hours, they'd jump out from the space behind the blackboard and gobble you up…

Adam jumps as something white flashes at the corner of his eye, and as he turns to look, there is something,  _something_  coming closer, flickering and pale, but it's  _there_  and it's coming towards Adam, closer and closer and  _closer_. Adam stands up, his skin prickling into goosebumps as he scrambles backwards, eyes wide and terrified. It's coming for him, he knows it. It's coming for him…

"You alright there, kid?" says a voice and there's a pale hand on his shoulder. Adam jumps nearly a foot in the air, and then he's crying, crying about monsters and Trixie and  _please, please don't eat him, he isn't tasty!_

"Hey, hey, sshh! I'm not going to eat you!" says the voice awkwardly, and when Adam looks up, the pale girl has her hands held up, palms out, in a gesture of surrender. She's taller than him, and wearing a black trenchcoat and a bright red scarf that'd be better suited for cold weather. Adam thinks she might be sixteen or seventeen, and her black hair is cut almost boyish short and makes a striking contrast with her pale face and blank black eyes.

Adam looks at her dubiously, before turning back to look at the white thing. It's gone.

The girl flashes him a bright grin that's all teeth. "I doubt you'd taste very good anyway. I'd pick ice cream over little boy any day, mind you."

"I'm not little!" says Adam, frowning, Janet and monsters forgotten "I'm gonna be ten in September  _and_ I'm second tallest in my class!"

The girl laughs and leans on the metal bar holding up the swing.

"Are you?" she asks, and her accent is British, voice lilting and rich. Adam thinks it's nice to listen to. But he feels wary. She's…  _odd_. He thinks, though he can't quite put his finger on  _why_. There's just something  _wrong_ with her. She's scary, he thinks, but doesn't say.

She cocks her head to the side. And Adam feels as if he's seen that gesture, seen her before. But try as he might, he can't remember where or when. He frowns at the girl.

"I guess you aren't very little anymore." she tells him with a pensive frown, and then she grins brightly. "Well, doesn't matter! Thing for another time… Just  _what_  are you doing  _here?_  School's out, ain't it? Thought J-Jenny? Jane? What's her name, started with a J…" she trails off "ANYWAY! Doesn't really matter what her name is, does it? Why isn't she here, again?"

Adam looks startled, then bites his lip. He doesn't like the girl… but she seems to know him, maybe she can help him get home?

"I dunno…" he tells her reluctantly, "Do you know my mom?"

"Not personally."

"Oh."

And Adam deflates and worries, about Janet, about his mom, about monsters.

"But I  _could_  get you to her," says the girl offhandedly. Adam looks up, suddenly hopeful. The girl is flicking non-existent dirt off her fingernails and looking decidedly bored, then she gives Adam a measuring look, "for a price…"

Adam deflates again. He doesn't have any money. He has a half-eaten bologna sandwich and a roll of twine, and his bag, which has his school things. He tells the girl this, and she wrinkles her nose at the mention of bologna.

"I don't like bologna," says the girl with a disdainful sniff, "and twine isn't nearly as interesting as it was two hundred years ago. Do you have magic markers? I like those."

No, Adam does not have magic markers. But he has a box of crayons and two pencils.

"No, thank you, I don't do crayons."

There's a moment of silence, while Adam tries to think up of payment and the girl just stands there, wrinkling her nose. Possibly detesting bologna in her mind. The girl is starting to look bored, and he's worried she'll leave without helping him.

"Well, what would  _you_  like me to do?" asks the almost-nine-year-old desperately.

At that she grins like the cat that got the cream. And Adam feels  _very, very_ worried.

* * *

Adam whimpers as the pain gets too much and across from him, the girl laughs, before licking away a stray drop from her ice cream.

"Told you not to eat it too fast!" she tells him, grinning brilliantly, and Adam pouts at her. Grimacing as the pain continues. The girl laughs again. "Fine. Stick your tongue to the roof of your mouth, my friend says it works."

Adam looks at her suspiciously before deciding it couldn't possibly hurt to try. It works. And soon Adam is messily scooping rocky road ice cream into his mouth again. It's delicious, and Adam doesn't know very much about ice cream, but he can tell that  _this_  ice cream is  _brilliant_. As far as ice cream goes.

The café that the girl has brought him to is a comfy-looking place, nestled in an alcove between two commercial buildings where Adam would have sworn, just a few days ago, there was nothing but an empty alley(but Adam isn't an expert, he doesn't know for sure). The café is small and homey, if rather… tacky-looking, with its floral pink tablecloths and frilly curtains. But the mismatched chairs are huge and soft, and the low light and bluesy music makes Adam want to curl up in a corner and sleep. If he wasn't so busy spooning down his ice cream.  _Because, really, it's delicious. Probably the best Adam's ever tasted._

The girl has hers in a cone. It's her second one already.

"Um…" begins Adam, looking up from his bowl of chocolate awesomeness. "So, what are we doing here? Din't you say you were gonna talk to someone?"

"Yep." replies the girl, popping her lips at the p. "But he's not here. Yet."

So they wait. And Adam thinks they might wait for whoever it is forever, but just as he starts fidgeting in his seat, someone runs into the counter and the girl waves at him.

"Evan!" she greets cheerily, and the guy,  _Evan_ , gives them a disgruntled look before walking up to their table. Adam thinks Evan looks around eighteen, and his hair is a light blonde in dire need of a haircut, and falls in a messy fringe over his eyes.

Then, as if by magic, the unhappy look is gone and Evan is flashing them a confident smile.

"There's my favourite…" he falters when he sees Adam, "…customer. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

Suddenly the girl stops smiling, and her face is serious. "We need to talk, Evan."

"You know, I get  _really_ worried whenever you start making that face. It usually means I'm about to get screwed. Big time. On your account."

But the girl is already standing up, and she orders another bowl of ice cream for Adam. Then she and Evan walk away, and their faces get really serious as they talk.

Adam eats his ice cream, and wonders how long it'll take before they're done and he can go home to his mom.

* * *

When they leave the café, whose name  _is,_ apparently, The Café. Adam is full and his stomach is cold from all the ice cream. The girl is frowning, deep in thought, and she stays that way until they get to the hospital where Adam's mom works. Kate is surprised to see Adam, and it's only when everything is sorted out that she finds out that Janet had called in sick that morning, but it had gone to voicemail and Kate had forgotten to check that day.

Adam tells her about Trixie Pacard, and the flickering white thing, and the girl in the black coat that bought him ice cream and took him to the hospital. And Kate Milligan frowns and shakes her head, and thinks Adam has too much imagination.

But she's thankful, and that's why Kate looks for the girl that Adam is talking about, but she isn't anywhere that Kate looks.

* * *

In a different part of the hospital, a pale girl in a black coat strolls into the doctor's office. Her face is pensive, lost in her thoughts, and the man behind the desk raises an eyebrow at her before tossing a chocolate bar unto the desk.

She takes the chocolate, still chewing her lip, with her eyes focused on a problem she can't seem to solve. And proceeds to chew on it. The chocolate bar that is.

There's a moment of silence.

"I saw you bring in Adam Milligan." states the man noncommittally.

"I did." she agrees, equally noncommittal.

"That's twice now you've interfered." a scowl, he's agitated. He's  _worried_.

"Thrice." she corrects through a mouthful of chocolate. The man shoots her a glare.

"You know you can't keep getting involved. Getting  _attached._ "

At that, the girl looks at him with an affronted expression. As if the mere idea was abhorrent. "Was there a role reversal without me knowing? You  _do_  know who you're talking to, right?"

The man snorts, then leans back on his chair, brushing strands of brilliant scarlet away from his face. "How the heck would I not? But that isn't the problem with you! Heck, the kid could die right now and you wouldn't even blink. The problem is that  _you_ get interested, and then, you get attached, and then you do stupid things that get people in a ton of trouble they don't need, just because you want to see what happens next"

He spits out the last part with a look of disgust. And the girl gives him a small smirk before her face becomes serious again.

"I talked to Evan."

"You're changing the subject—"

"March 5, 2009."

Silence. Before the doctor speaks again, and his voice is dangerously low.

" _What?_ "

The girl gives him a grim smile.

"Evan. Almost reaped the kid this afternoon. That is, until I dropped by and when he double-checked his Book, turns out the files got messed up and he was ten years too early," The girl gives a dark chuckle. "Good thing I showed when I did. I don't think he would have realized the mistake until it was too late."

"He… wait…  _what?_ "

"You're the height of coherence, you know that?"

"Shut up. Are you… are you telling me that kid only has ten years left to live?"

"Bravo, Koryuu, even I couldn't have figured that one out."

The red-haired man shoots her a glare, to which she replies by rolling her eyes.

"He's the last. You know," she begins softly "If there's any time to get attached. Then it's now."

"When he's dying?"

"Everybody's dying. Proven fact of life. Well, except for special exceptions. Like you. Mostly you."

"And who's fault was  _that_ , again?"

The girl throws her head back with a laugh, and the man just glares, but the twitch of his lips gives him away.

"I'm serious though." She states "You should give it a shot. Adam there, he's interesting, if you'll just give him a chance."

"Jet..."

"He needs it.  _You_  need it. Damn the consequences, Koryuu! Let's have some fun."


	4. Nameless Presents

For as long as Adam can remember, there have always been two extra presents. For Christmas, for his birthday, even for Halloween and Easter.

Always two extra presents. Always for him. Always without a sender.

When he was younger, he used to think they were from Santa, but as he grew up, he realized that 1) Santa wouldn't send him anything for Halloween or Easter, and 2) Kate was always more than a little disgruntled when the topic of the presents came up.

Then Santa wasn't real anymore, and the mystery presents continued to come. By then Adam had realized that his mom was downright terrified of the presents that came from nowhere, that never had any senders, and that would always, always find them, no matter where they spent the occasion –  _Adam remembers going to Milwaukee, or New York to visit Kate's cousins, or even the beach, but they always come for him._

Adam always liked the presents. They were always fun things, interesting things, things that Adam wanted but Kate could never buy on the salary of a single mother working as a nurse in the hospital.

Sometimes, Adam thought they might be from John. The enigmatic man that mom said was his father but rarely ever came around.

That was before John found out about the presents.

* * *

Adam still remembers that day. It was his birthday, thirteenth, and John's with them to celebrate. John.  _His dad_.  _His_ dad. His  _dad._ And it should have been wonderful, and all sorts of brilliant, but it isn't.

Because John found out about the presents and Adam still remembers how terrified he'd been just then because he thought John had gone mad, and how he'd sobbed and protested when the man who was supposed to be his dad ripped the presents away, still in their wrappers, and covered them in salt and tossed them into the fire to burn.

Adam still remembers John's eyes, dark with anger and livid, how he shouted at Adam about being a fool and how he shouldn't accept things that he didn't know where from, how it was dangerous.

And Adam cried while Kate tried to calm  _John_  down, because now he would always just be John to Adam, never dad, because Adam can't accept that his dad is this much of a disappointment. It's the first time it hits Adam, as in  _really_  hits him, that life isn't all he wanted it to be.

That afternoon, John apologizes and takes Adam out to a baseball game and Adam goes, albeit grudgingly, and thinks about the two nameless presents he isn't allowed to accept anymore.

They keep coming anyway.

John isn't around to throw them every single time, but he's made his point on the matter clear, and Kate pales every time they come, and she puts them in the trash, because, apparently, she agrees with John, no matter how much Adam pleads with her. She's set on the matter, and Adam frowns and watches the two presents that have always been a constant of his life never make it to him again.

* * *

It's a year and a half since then, Adam counts fourteen presents that have been carted off in to the dumpster –  _Halloween, Christmas, Easter, Birthday, Halloween, Christmas –_ when they stop coming.

To tell the truth, Adam's not sure whether to be relieved or disappointed. He's half-hoping whoever sends them doesn't stop, that they don't think he's being ungrateful or anything –  _because surely if they can figure out where he is and what he wants every Christmas, then they'll know if he's getting the presents they're giving? –_ and half relieved, because it's such a waste for them to keep sending him presents he's not allowed to accept. It's better like this, right?

Easter comes and there aren't anymore gifts.

* * *

When Adam's next birthday comes, fifteenth now, John drops by. He takes Adam to a baseball game, as usual, then buys him his first beer. And Adam and John have a drink, sitting on the hood of the Impala outside of the stadium and they talk about the weather, and sports and polite things that fathers and sons ought to talk about, like what Adam wants to do with himself when he grows up.

"I want to be a doctor." says Adam, and he takes a swig and grimaces at the bitter taste flooding his mouth.

"You want to work in the hospital? Like your mom?" asks John, nodding contemplatively.

"No, like K—" Adam catches himself "Like Dr. Drake."

John frowns.

"Who's this doctor?" he asks gruffly, and Adam thinks that no,  _no_  he doesn't want to tell John about Dr. Drake, he won't, can't tell John about the man he wishes was his father instead. And wouldn't that be just _poetic_?

"He used to work at the school clinic." says Adam offhandedly, "I think he's pretty cool."

And that's that. John doesn't ask anything more about Adam's doctor, and Adam is more than relieved.

It's only when John drops Adam off that Adam looks at the curb and realizes that there aren't any presents in the trash.

For a moment, he's actually disappointed. Then he shrugs and walks inside, leaving his mom to say her goodbye to John. He thinks they might be kissing, or some other lovey-dovey thing.

When he gets to the kitchen, he grabs a glass of water and washes away the bitter taste of beer from his mouth. He thinks he'll never like the taste. He listens as the rumble of the Impala's engine grow fainter as John drives away, to wherever it is he goes when he's not with Adam and Kate, and he hears the door open and close as Kate comes in. It's just him and mom again.

"I'll be upstairs, mom!" he calls, because he can't bear seeing her look so happy and so crushed at the same time. John's the love of her life, Adam knows, but he's leaving, he's  _always_ leaving, and Kate and Adam are always the ones left behind.

Adam closes the door to his room and tries not to slam it, Kate might hear, and then they'll have a row. Adam doesn't want that.

What Adam  _does_  want is to flop into his bed, and go to sleep, because John is messed up, and Kate is hopelessly in love, and Adam is tired, and he doesn't like beer, and he doesn't like John, and there aren't any presents in the trash…

Adam jumps when he hears the crinkle of wrappers and rolls off the bed clutching his chest thinking –  _Ow, that hurt! There's something on my bed, what the heck? –_ And pulls off the covers.

There are two presents sitting innocently on his bed.

Adam can feel his jaw dropping. They must have been put there recently, because Kate always checks if the presents have come –  _she looks in his closet and under his bed and even in the ledge under his window because the presents have been appearing in sneakier manners ever since she started throwing them out –_ but she's missed them this time and they're on Adam's bed and Kate doesn't have any idea.

Adam steps back, towards the door, remembering John's warnings, and Kate's pale face and disgruntled expression, and the presents in the trash…

There's a single  _click_  of the lock. And it's final.

Alone in his room, Adam Milligan grins. He's fifteen, and presents in brightly coloured wrappers are getting old, but it doesn't matter. And he doesn't care if he's kneeling by the bed with a silly smile bigger than anything, doesn't care if it's biggest he's smiled all day, doesn't care if he's ripping into the presents like a five year old on his first Christmas.

 _He doesn't care._ Because the presents are there, and Adam's just happy that somewhere out there, there's someone that isn't too messed up or too hopeless or too sick and tired of all this crap to give him birthday presents like he's just another little kid and not fifteen watching the rose-tinted glass fall to pieces around him.

It feels good.

Adam gets headphones, and a box of brownies from the first gift. And a brand new laptop from the next. And he knows that his mom can't know, so he hides the headphones in a shoebox. The brownies go in his bedside drawer while the laptop finds space under a medical trivia book in his desk. Then Adam tosses the wrappers into his school bag, and plans to dispose of them before class on Monday.

He doesn't notice the birthday card that falls out of the wrappers and slips under his bed.

If he had, he might have figured it all out a lot sooner.


End file.
